


I'm friggin' Great, Dean

by bluewhisperstale



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean especially, Gen, Menstruation, confused Winchesters, period, the boys have some troubles with the female body
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-24
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2018-09-19 15:44:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9448520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluewhisperstale/pseuds/bluewhisperstale
Summary: The reader has been sheltered away from the boys for a few days, much to their concern. When they finally decide to investigate, they get a little more than they bargained for.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this late at night before my Socials exam so don't judge me for all the mistakes that are probably in this. Do you think I have my life together? No. I don't. Fuck you.

“It’s been three days, Dean,” Sam spoke in a taut voice. “Three days without seeing Y/N. You don’t think that’s a little… y’know, unsettling?”  
“If it’s such a big deal, go check on her yourself.” Dean focused his gaze on the computer screen, not even batting an eye. “She’s just in her room, Sammy.”  
Sam huffed, rolling his eyes at his brother. Scraping his chair against the floor- louder than necessary- he slammed Dean’s laptop shut. Dean quirked an eyebrow at him, but Sam payed no regard.  
“You and I are going to check if she’s conscious, at the very least.” He crossed his arms over his chest, defiant to the discretionary noises coming from Dean’s mouth. He glared firmly at his brother. Finally, Dean sighed, rubbing a hand down his face as he stood up.  
“Stubborn son of a bitch,” he muttered under his breath. Sam smirked.  
By the time they came across Y/N’s room, the boys had argued everything between invading her space and just assuming that she was just sick of them. Sam won by cuffing Dean on the back of the head, to which Dean responded by pushing Sam into the wall. Silently they fought, threatening whispers and quiet blows in each other’s general direction for a couple of minutes before they heard something.  
Unanimously, they paused with Dean’s hands on the collar of Sam’s shirt and his knee halfway up to Dean’s jewels. Glaring, they released each other, and made slowly to the door. Dean pressed his ear to the door, Sam at his back, and motioned him to be quiet. After a moment, Dean’s face resembled something of confusion and protectiveness.  
“What?” Sam asked after a moment. Dean turned to him, slightly bewildered, and furrowed his brows.  
“She’s… moaning,” he started. He grinned. “But not in the sexy way, I can assure you that.”  
Sam face softened, then hardened, then puckered.  
“Moaning?” he asked. Dean only nodded, confusion prominent in his eyes as well. They stared at each other in puzzlement, before Dean widened his eyes.  
“We should go in and check on her,” he rushed. Sam mouthed a silent ‘oh.’  
Sam knocked, uncertain if this was the best time to barge in on what could only be your… personal time.  
He was greeted with a groan; muffled and quiet, but a groan nonetheless. He nodded to Dean, who affirmed his next action. Slowly, he twisted the knob.  
The first thing he noticed was the stench. It wafted over him like it was trying to knock him over- which it nearly did- and made it impossibly uncomfortable to breathe in. He saw Dean in the corner of his eye actually lean against the doorframe in support, the smell overpowering him.  
“Y/N?” Sam coughed out, the stench put aside for a moment. “You okay?”  
Y/N just grunted, unintelligible and sharp, in his general vicinity. He looked to his brother for reassurance. He nodded and stepped into the room.  
“Y/N, what…” Dean started, unsure what to do or where to begin. She had been hiding in her room for three days- not even after a bad hunt, or any hunt at all, actually- and it was now obvious that she had been storing water bottles and food to excuse herself from making an entrance. Clothes were swamped across the floor, all dirty, and candy wrappers littered the ground alongside them. An album- Adele, presumably (not that Dean listened to her, like, ever)- played softly in the background, and the volume remote was lying just underneath an empty chocolate box. She was lying on your bed, sheets a tangled mess around her limbs, with her head and left hand just barely visible above the mess.  
Dean cleared his throat, desperately wracking his brain for something, anything, to say to Y/N, but came up short. Lost, he looked to Sam, who seemed to have regained most of his composure. He nodded, short and curt, and opened his mouth to speak- but no words came out.  
“Y’know,” she grumbled. “This isn’t the T.V. room, so unless you’ve come to do my laundry then get the hell out and stop staring at me.”  
Sam and Dean gulped. This wasn’t exactly a reoccurring moment for the two of them. Sure, sometimes she’d go out to a motel for a couple of days, or she’d sort of avoid them for a while, but the boys had just assumed that she was sick of all the testosterone. Even then, though, they’d always see her at least once a day.  
“You okay?” Dean blurted out. He shrugged at Sam, who in turn tried to give a warning glance at his brother, but it was too late.  
“My back feels like it’s been run over, my boobs are more tender than Sam’s undercooked steaks- face it, moose, you’re no Gordon Ramsay- I’ve got acne in places where I didn’t even know acne could grow, and I’ve got Lucifer’s waterfall blasting out of my vagina at 40 miles per hour. I’m doing friggin’ great, Dean,” she groaned into her pillow.  
The boy’s stared blankly at her figure, unsure of what to say. Sam prepared to say something but- unfortunately- Dean beat him to the mic.  
“You’ve got what coming out of your where?” he asked, exasperated. Sam froze, slowly turning to Dean in an ‘oh-no-what-have-you-just-done-you-moron’ posture. He had, unfortunately, forgotten about Dean’s highly limited experiences with menstruation.  
“I’ve got blood coming out of my uterus, Dean,” she articulated through clenched, flying up to a sitting position. “Tell me, have you ever bled for five days straight and survived? Huh? Have you, Dean?” Y/N’s face was wild, her posture rigid and angry, and, to be honest, it terrified Dean.  
“Umm...” he gazed at Sam, whose eyes were wide with fear, and got a shrug in response. “I don’t think-”  
“That’s just it, isn’t it? You don’t think!” Y/N screeched at him, throwing a pillow in his general direction. He flinched when the pillow hit his abdomen, but was far too preoccupied by the sound of Sam’s laughter. Y/N glared at him.  
“Oh, so this is funny to you?” she growled. All colour from Sam’s face immediately drained as he swallowed thickly. “Is my pain humorous to you?” He cleared his throat, licking his lips in an attempt to try and punch something out of his throat, but nothing came out.  
“Y/N,” Dean started softly. He chanced a glance at Sam, who was just relieved that the tension was off him at the moment, before returning his gaze to her. “Look, we didn’t mean to wind you up or anything. We just came to, y’know…” his eyes wandered over to Sam for back up. Fortunately, he stepped in.  
“To check up on you.” Sam nodded vigorously. “We had just noticed you had been in here for a while, and we were concerned. For you.” He added at the end. He peeked at Dean, who, in turn, glanced back. They watched as Y/N twitched.  
They weren’t ready for the waterworks.  
Y/N bawled into her hands. The brothers raised their eyebrows and tensed up, unsure of what to do next.  
“Uh,” Dean asked, uncertainly stepping towards to shivering figure with Sam. “Y/N? You… you okay?” When she sobbed even louder, he took another wary step towards the bed. He glanced back at Sam, who nodded in confirmation. Exhaling deeply, he sat down beside her, awkwardly placing a hand between her shoulder blades. No sooner did he do that when she flung her arms around him, tears and snot oozing onto his shirt. He quirked an eyebrow at Sam, who only huffed in response.  
“I-I’m so-o sorr-y,” she bawled, clinging onto Dean’s flannel mercilessly. “I-I just a-a-am s-such a wr-reck. Oh, y-you p-p-probably h-hate me now.” She said something else, but to the boys it was unintelligible.  
“Hey, hey,” Sam interjected, sitting beside her. “We don’t hate you. Y/N, we were just concerned.”  
“Yeah,” Dean added. “We could never hate you. Mind you, sometimes you’re a pain in the ass-” The boys tensed when Y/N sobbed even louder into his shirt. “Hey, hey, hey! Just messin’ around with ya, kid. We just wanted to check up on you. See that you weren’t, y’know, wallowing in self-pity or whatever.”  
Y/N sniffled into Dean’s shirt, Sam’s hand now replacing Dean’s so that he could awkwardly pet her hair.  
“M’sorry,” she snuffled. “Jus’ a lil’ bit over emotional, s’all.”  
“It’s okay,” Sam reassured her, stroking her back in a soothing motion. “We understand- or, not really, but we sympathize.” He gave Dean a look, who- slowly but surely- looked from him, to her, and back to him, before catching on.  
“Oh, yeah,” he rushed. “Totally. You’re badass for all of this. No way Sammy or I could do this.” He felt you smirk against his chest. He grinned a little, relieved. He exchanged a glance with Sam, who sighed in relief.  
“Yeah, no way,” Y/N mumbled under her breath. “I’m way cooler than you two dorks.”  
The boys smirked at each other, getting up after a few minutes to leave before feeling Y/N’s fists clench around their shirts.  
“You better be leaving to get me some chocolate,” he grumbled. “Then you two are getting your asses back in here to watch Friends with me because there is no way in hell you are getting off the hook that easily.”  
“‘Off the hook?’ For what?” Dean asked.  
“For making me cry, dumbass.” She retorted, pulling the covers back up and grabbing for her T.V. remote. “Now hurry up so we can get your ass back on in here. I’m cravin’ something sweet.”


End file.
